How The Pandemic Helped Me Claim My Slut-hood
Hello, my name is Rachel, and I am a slut.
I have always been a bit “boy crazy.”
Gosh… there’s a lot to unpack in that term.
But from as early as second grade I can remember being heavily interested in the boys.
A slutty past
I remember second grade clearly because that’s when I wrote my first secret admirer letter. In third grade, I floated for months after my crush noticed my new haircut. In fourth grade, I pretended to like the Flyers so Jimmy would like me. In fifth grade, I decided to pick up the electric bass because Travis was going to be playing it. In sixth grade, I made him a bass guitar-shaped birthday card, but a friend eventually talked me out of giving it to him.
As seventh and eighth grade rolled around, just like the rest of the world, my social life was becoming more digital. AIM (AOL Instant Messager) was where all the important conversations were happening. The cheeky away messages. The honor of being quoted in another friend’s profile. I would spend hours on the computer talking with my friends, filling up the time as I stared at my crush of the month’s username, willing it to come online.
